


Shoes and Other Ways to Piss Off a Super Soldier

by SoldatBarnes (OhCaptain2015)



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7070866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhCaptain2015/pseuds/SoldatBarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot has changed following the events of Civil War, but at least one thing remains constant: Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson are probably never going to actually get along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoes and Other Ways to Piss Off a Super Soldier

There was no denying that T’Challa’s palace, as it could best be called, was quieter than what those who had migrated from Stark Tower were used to. It was far away from civilization, hidden away in miles of rainforest, with palace workers and birds being the company that kept the once-Avengers. It was strange. Especially since while people were constantly working, it somehow avoided the constant noise of Stark Tower. Except for two of its inhabitants.  
  
“Godammit Wilson!” Bucky Barnes was running down the main hallway that led to the communal dining area, a trail of shoes behind him. He was barefoot, in his pajamas, and each and every single one of the shoelaces of all of the shoes that were trailing behind him were tied in crisp, tight knots. Steve stopped quickly, a bit of the coffee in his freshly poured cup spilling over his fingers, and there was a loud laugh that echoed down the hallway that Bucky was heading for.  
  
“What was it this time?” T’Challa asked, walking out of the dining area with nothing but half of a sandwich in his hand a tea in the other. He had just woken up as well, and it seemed they both would be joined soon by more people if Bucky kept his voice up at the volume that it was.  
  
“His shoes were tied together. All of them. Including his combat boots, which is like half his wardrobe anyway.” Steve took a sip of his coffee. He was surprisingly calm for what had just passed in front of him, but then again so was T’Challa.  
  
“Has Sam not already done that?” T’Challa glanced down the hallway in the general direction that Bucky had been running in. The both had long since disappeared and couldn’t be heard anymore by anyone on the floor at least.  
  
“I think you’re thinking of the left shoe blender incident.” Steve started down the hallway that Bucky had run down, and T’Challa stayed by his side. T’Challa nodded in understanding, taking a few bites of the sandwich down in one that should have remained at a few.  
  
Steve went silent, though T’Challa stayed by his side. He was worried. Though he loved Bucky and loved the fact that he had him back in his life, he couldn’t help but feel a little apprehension at someone who at the length of eleven words could lose control. Bucky was insistent. He had gotten better, much better, in the two years on his own and could continue to do so especially with the help of their team on his side now. But no tests. He couldn’t, not anymore; everything of that sort reminded him too much of HYDRA.  
  
And then there was Sam. Sam who since the moment they all moved in and got settled had made it his personal goal in life to inconvenience Bucky as often as possible. Sam who had put several of Bucky’s left shoes in the vibranium blender in the kitchen. Sam who glared daggers at Bucky over the table at every ‘family dinner.’ Sam who once ate exactly half of each and every one of the leftovers in the communal fridge that were labeled ‘Bucky.’  
  
It wasn’t as if Bucky hadn’t retaliated of course. He had gotten his fair share of comebacks to all of Sam’s quips and pranks. But Steve wasn’t positive that comebacks were what Bucky should have been taking part in, and maybe should have just been coloring or something or really anything that didn’t insist on waking up the compound every day by nine o clock.  
  
“You’re worried,” T’Challa said, rounding the corner with Steve. Inexplicably they were making their way in the general direction that Bucky had run but Steve hadn’t noticed that quite yet. For a while after moving in Steve had taken T’Challa’s words as insightful, as they always sounded like he was finding something that no one else knew out of a situation to share with everyone else. In reality, he just wasn’t as quick to say what was on his mind as most people that Steve was used to. Many of the things that T’Challa said came out to be obvious, if only personal.  
  
“Yes,” Steve said, finishing up his coffee. He was stuck with the cup now. Although he could probably leave it near a vent or something and Clint would bring it back where it belonged. He let it hang on his fingertips by his side and just kept walking.  
  
“About Barnes?”  
  
“Of course. Is that a surprise?”  
  
“Absolutely not. But he seems to be having fun with Sam at least – has that crossed your mind?”  
  
It hadn’t. Not really. Most of Sam and Bucky’s interactions had involved one screaming at the other, vague not-quite-insults, or Twitter fights that garnered national attention and a spot on the six o clock news. None of it had seemed like things that friends would take part in, or fun. Steve would really just rather Bucky started yoga or something, something that would actually calm him down instead of rile him up.  
  
Despite this, Steve just shrugged. His hand closed around the mug he was still carrying, tightening even further when they reached the next turn in the hallway. Sam was there, but Bucky wasn’t. Bucky’s shoes instead took his place, wrapped around Sam to the point that he was unable to move his arms.  
  
“I promise this is better than it looks,” Sam said. It wasn’t proven, especially by his incessant wriggling that was changing nothing about his situation. T’Challa let out a snorted chuckle and moved forward to start to untie him, plucking at any of the shoelaces that were tied too tight until they came apart in shreds and fell to the floor. Sam made a face as the last of the shoes that he had tied together fell to the floor around him.  
  
There could have been silence, even just for a moment. But as soon as Sam had gotten the shoes off of him, Steve let “you know, it really wouldn’t hurt if you and Bucky actually got along,” tumble out of his mouth before he could stop it. Sam laughed as soon as he heard it, kicking a few of the shoes down the hallway.  
  
“That’s rough buddy,” he said with the smirk still across his face. He was eyeing some of the shows as if they would become the product of another future prank despite the fact that shoes had been his repeated subject at least twice now. “The guy stole my goddamn steering wheel, I really don’t think any amount of shoe terrorism is going to make up for that.”  
  
Steve sighed. He should have expected as much, but Sam and Bucky truly were his closest actual friends for the moment. The moment that had the chance to go on for several years longer than he’d like it to; with half of his team in Wakanda with him and the other half on the compound. Not that they were really his team any more but he liked to think that he was good for them at some point or another. Even if this was all his fault.  
  
“Shoe terrorism?” T’Challa questioned, though the answer basically was laying on the floor in front of him in a pile.  
  
“I hope to branch out from shoe terrorism soon, but it’s the easiest way to get to him for right now,” Sam smirked, finally tearing his gaze away from his own destruction lying on the floor. Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and silently admitted defeat. Sam and Bucky weren’t going to get along, even if it felt like it wasn’t that hard for them just to try, at the very least. He supposed that somehow, that was too much to ask for.  
  
“Oh, hey, T’Challa?” Sam looked up at him as Steve started to fade out of the conversation, caught in his own whirlwind of thoughts of how he could have possibly gotten in his current situation. T’Challa looked up and nodded as acknowledgement that he had spoken. “Don’t send me lilies again, please. I’m ridiculously allergic and you covered my room in the stuff and I couldn’t even keep my bedsheets.”  
  
That was what hooked Steve back into the moment, sending a smirk directly at T’Challa who had a dark blush across his face. “Oh – I – “ He clearly was going to try and refute it, but there wasn’t much worth in it when Sam had known exactly who the flowers had come from. “I won’t,” he said in a voice much quieter and much less than befitting of a king. Steve smirked and clapped a hand on his shoulder, still in the hurricane of trying to figure out how he was going to handle Bucky and Sam’s apparent hatred of each other. The pit in his stomach only grew when Sam walked off, not announcing where he was going just walking as if he had a mission to complete.

  



End file.
